


Pathways

by forcefields



Category: Tomb Raider (Video Games)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-19
Updated: 2020-04-21
Packaged: 2021-02-13 12:47:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 14,571
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21494530
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/forcefields/pseuds/forcefields
Summary: Upon discovering the ancient city of Paititi and meeting its queen, Lara believes their journeys are aligned - hers, to stop Trinity from fulfilling an apocalyptic prophecy, the queen Unuratu's, to fulfil her destiny at the turn of the eclipse - as they intersect at their connections to Trinity's leader, Amaru (Pedro Dominguez).What Lara cannot anticipate, however, is her actual connection to Unuratu, and the closer they get, the more paranoid she becomes. Everyone who gets close to her ends up hurt.She couldn't bear another tragedy, another heartbreak. Not after what happened with Sam...
Relationships: Lara Croft/Unuratu, Past Lara Croft/Samantha Nishimura
Comments: 72
Kudos: 143





	1. Chapter 1

An arrow shot past Lara’s cheek, slicing the surface of her skin. Hissing curses, she dove behind a pillar, narrowly avoiding a second to the arm. By some miracle, that one didn’t catch flesh.

But Unuratu –

She huffed a breath, hauling the shotgun on her back into her hands’ steady hold. Careful, quick fingers reloaded it; she was focused entirely on this process, for it moved her mind to instinct over sporadic thought. Instinct, she believed, was always better a mode of survival to snap into. If you thought too much in a situation such as this, you died.

She could only hope, pray Unuratu wasn’t –

A cult member came hurtling around the corner, a makeshift axe raised and, then, swinging down to smash through her skull. A shell blasted through his stomach, repelling him backwards with a forceful blow, and she herself was springing back to avoid the freed axe.

Landing hard on one arm, scraping her elbow on centuries-old stone, Lara lifted her shotgun and fired again at an approaching archer. The shell went through his throat. As he gasped, gurgled and clutched at the helpless situation beneath his chin, she hit a third cultist in the forearm – he screamed.

_Lucky shot_, she thought, grimacing, _I barely saw him coming._

Out of her peripheral vision, she caught a fourth. In the same instant, she’d aimed and fired. As he joined his fellowman in cries of anguish, she slung the shotgun’s strap over her head and rolled onto her toes and hands, pushing up into a stand.

“(Come here),” yelled one of the last two (she’d made quick on counting the bastards, and there were six) active hostiles, “(demon)!”

“(_Demon_)?” She turned to him and pulled her pistol – he, despite the glaring red warning sign, continued to charge. “(Is that the best you can come up with?)”

His response a feral yell, she went for a headshot. That was before she saw his friend hoping to get a kill from afar. Shifting her strategy in seconds, with perfect timing, Lara ducked, arrow whistling overhead, and shot the charging cultist in both kneecaps. When he collapsed, she twisted at a slight angle to shoot at the would-be sniper. Purely warning shots, of course. There was no way she’d hit him at this distance.

He didn’t seem to consider that, though, doing the one thing she’d always seen in movies but never in reality: run. Declaring her a cursed so-and-so, he turned and fled. She wondered what Rourke would say about that.

Rourke.

Unuratu.

Sheathing her pistol, Lara sprinted across stone and leapt over water, very narrowly making the landing on the island Unuratu had been shot upon. Skidding to her knees, Lara cringed at the sight of Paititi’s leader, eyes closed and mouth agape.

She should have stayed with her.

But she would have died, too –

No, Unuratu wasn’t dead. She refused to believe it, beginning to perform CPR. _Please_, she prayed, and she didn’t pray often, _please, God, be alive._

But there was nothing, _nothing_, she wasn’t responding to Lara’s action at all. The anxiety she’d been repressing was crawling, faster, to the surface. She tried again – compress the chest, breathe into the mouth – and again – compress, breathe – and once more. Compress, breathe, compress.

“Breathe, dammit!” she begged, her voice a pained whisper, “Please, Unuratu – come back to me.”

The last thing she wanted to hear in that moment was Etzli’s voice, but it was his she heard shouting for his mother – Jonah’s and Q’orianka’s, too. Taking a deep breath, Lara willed her fear away for one last try. The leader before her lay statuesque.

She compressed her chest, once, twice, three times. She paused for just a moment, and then, inhaling deep again, put her mouth on Unuratu’s.

With strain, Unuratu inhaled – and exhaled coughing, choking up her blood. Lara jolted, moving aside as Etzli and Paititi soldiers approached. Briskly, the soldiers rose Unuratu’s body between them and followed Q’orianka west towards a temple. Jonah strayed, mouth opening and closing, gaze locked in his friend’s. Etzli spoke first.

“What happened to my mother?” the young prince demanded, tears and rage in his eyes. Lara knew that look all too well. God knows how many times she’d seen it in her reflection.

“I’m sorry, Etzli,” and she meant it more than he knew, lashing out at herself on the inside, “I should’ve protected her - we were attacked by Amaru’s men and your mother was shot.”

“With an arrow?”

“No, a bullet. He was one of the –”

Etzli was turning on his heels and racing to the temple before she finished. She decided not to waste her breath on information Jonah was already partial to.

“Was it that guy - Rourke?” His question, swift to break the silence, affirmed her decision.

Nodding, Lara looked to the stone at her feet. “I could’ve done something to stop it, Jonah. I should’ve seen Rourke coming -”

“That’s all ‘if’s’, Lara.” She looked up at him. He smiled a little, as best he could. “We’ve gotta work with ‘now’s’, right, little bird?”

She hadn’t heard that nickname in a long time. She was glad to hear it now. Jonah always knew how to bring her around; he was her anchor after Sam –

No. She couldn’t afford to think about Sam given what was currently happening. Lifting her head to properly meet his eyes, she spoke firm. “I need to find Rourke. Kill him before he hurts anyone else.”

She didn’t expect Jonah to disagree, which was what he proceeded to do. “I don’t know. Don’t you think we’re better regrouping, rethinking our strategy now Unuratu’s…?”

“Matters’ll get worse the longer he’s allowed to stomp around here.” Lara argued, “You know that.”

“Yeah,” Jonah responded, “but I also know we’ve got an army on our side. And I don’t mean just you.”

She scoffed a laugh, bowing her head. Now was not the time for humour, yet Jonah made her smile like it was an ordinary day. She supposed, however, at this point on their journey, scenes of blood, screaming and bullet wounds did comprise a daily routine. “Jonah – come on. You know the last thing I want is a war.”

“They want it.” He definitely wasn’t backing down any time soon. “And hey, Dominguez’s worshippers aren’t the only hostiles around here. We’ve got zombies to fight, too. We could use the extra arms.”

Lara sighed. “Okay. Let’s go join the others. At the very least, we should have some form of strategy in case Rourke tries to take Paititi.”

“From Dominguez -?”

“He’s the sort of arrogant bastard who’d try it.” She started towards the temple, he, quickly falling into step beside her. Her heart pulsed, synchronised with her footsteps and slightly laboured breath; in her head, she was calm, controlled; her body knew different, slowly starting to rage against her.

Jonah, noticing the uneven pace of and in his friend, grabbed her hand short of heading through the temple’s opening, intricately-carved stone all around them. “Hey. What’s up?”

Her gaze narrowed, but loosened a couple seconds later as she heard the breathiness of her voice, “What d’you mean?”

Initially, he looked unsure how to proceed – awkward, even. “It’s just – never mind.” He attempted an assuring smile to clear the tension. “We shouldn’t be worrying about us.”

But Lara did not resume walking. “Jonah, if you’re worried about me, you should tell me why.” Feeling tension clog the air between them, she sighed a half-choked sound, emotions from battle and the situation at-hand clashing in her throat. With the slightest inclination of a smile, she shrugged, jerking her arms a little rather than opening them as intended. She started, too, quieter than she’d wanted, “Let’s –”

He hadn’t heard her start. “I know that look in your eyes.” Firmness and curiosity reflected in his. “I remember it in Yamatai –” and he hesitated, so she, despite her mind speaking a hard ‘no, no, no’, nodded, acting inquisitive when she’d honestly a good idea of what he was about to say – “when you carried Sam down the beach, and…”

“You’re seeing things.” She hated what she was saying but, at the same time, she didn’t want to have this conversation with him. She didn’t want to have this conversation – with anyone – period.

“Oh, no. You don’t get to have this your way, remember?” He took her arm as she turned away and locked her gaze. “We’re in this together, Lara. If I tell you what’s on my mind, you should do the same.”

She struggled with her words until they burst out. “I don’t know, Jonah -!” A tremble settling in her fingers, she broke their gaze. “I don’t know.”

In her peripheral vision, she saw his posture soften as his voice did. Her heart ached; it wasn’t that she didn’t trust him with his feelings (she definitely did - God, how many times had she fallen on his shoulder when shit spiralled?), it was that his words had opened old wounds. The slightest jab to them was fatal, regardless of whether harm was intended or not.

It had barely been a year –

“Alright,” his voice vanquished a thought otherwise unstoppable, and she blinked back the tears in her eyes, “it’s just – what I wanted to say was, it’s not all on you – to protect other people. Like I said, we’ve got the people on our side,” she nodded, slowly raising her eyes to his again, which made his smile a little more relaxed, “and me, you know – your best backup.”

“My only backup.” she said, quiet but, audible enough for him to hear clearly. Swallowing the _ growing in her throat, she raised her line of sight to his again, trying a smile. His mirrored expression made it stay. “Ever, by the way.”

“I hear you,” he rested a hand on her shoulder, “loud and clear.”

Placing a hand over his, she let the calm wash over her.

They began walking. Lara couldn’t see far inside the temple, hell, without its torches hanging off either wall, she wouldn’t have been able to see anything. As she squinted, trying – hoping – to see more than the scurrying, little creature or plant prying through stone, she felt nerves creep on her once more. And they would continue to rise every time something went south, no matter how much therapy she had, no matter how much Jonah made her laugh. Maybe relaxing was the mistake. But she was alert, almost always to the point of paranoia, the rest of – ninety-percent of – the time.

Maybe this was just the way her life was now. A constant fuck up, karma for sins past and present.

But Unuratu was fine. She’d survived.

This time –

“So – you got a crush on the queen of Paititi?”

It took her a moment to process what he’d said. When she had, she didn’t think her eyes could roll back much further. “Oh, so we’re gonna joke about it now?”

“Mm – yep.” Lara need not look. She could _feel_ the shit-eating grin on his face.

The slight semblance of a grin tickled her cheek. “Thanks.”

“Hey, I’m just glad it’s true and I don’t look like an idiot.”

“That’s how I felt when I asked about you and Abby.”

“You know about me -?” It was then he realised she hadn’t. “I walked right through the door, didn’t I?”

“Right through it. When it was shut. And locked.”

“Of course –”

“Bolted several times, actually.”

At the look on his face, half-resembling a goldfish, other half, a mildly irritated man, she snorted. Seconds dissolved the delightful expression into a grin from ear to ear.

“I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“Good.”

Looking ahead, it appeared this path was endless. She wouldn’t mind walking long-distance, though, given Jonah was beside her.

Etzli burst from the shadows. “Lara, Jonah,” he was breathless; both named broke into a sprint, “come – our enemy has brought the promised army to Paititi.”


	2. Chapter 2

Dominguez was nowhere to be seen. His men, on the other hand, flooded the city. Cultists and militia alike tore through the streets, sending Paititians screaming and running for the huts on higher ground, the sole area untouched by their attackers – thus far.

Lara knew full well how quickly that could – and would – change, if there was no pushback. Currently, Q’orianka’s soldiers were assisting their neighbours, their friends and family, the former as petrified for their lives as the latter. Machine gunfire ricocheted alongside the screeches of birds, either disturbed by the spine-shaking sounds or hit by an arrow impulsively shot by a cultist inclined to any type of violence, anything to increase this scene of peril.

Behind her, a shotgun clicked and snapped, loaded with a new cartridge.

Turning to Jonah, the look in his eyes determined, yet still retaining anxiety (she wished she were the same, happy but dually scared to help; these past few years had hardened her to merely feeling caught off-guard when she saw such events as the one unfolding), she raised her right hand. Following the smallest nod, he threw her a hunting rifle; catching it, checking it, she mirrored his gesture of confirmation.

“You shall require more than two guns to fend off the enemy,” Etzli said, his tone verbally and in body language years beyond his age, “take my men with you. Show my uncle what it means to threaten his Queen’s life.”

Jonah gave the best smile he could as eight archers emerged from the shadows. There was no reason to be unnerved by them, but Lara understood why he was. “Thank you, Etzli.” Clearing his throat, Jonah addressed their new comrades. “Alright, guys. See anyone who isn’t us – well – probably best to shoot them down before they do you.”

He glanced Lara’s way. She caught his gaze, raising an eyebrow. “We ready?” he asked.

She looked between Etzli’s men and the man standing beside her. If they held anything completely in common, it was their willingness – or, on second thought, eagerness - to fight. They were ready.

“Let’s go.” she affirmed, and turned to the onslaught outside, “Amaru’s heading for the temple to gain Kukulkan’s power – that much is clear from these attacks. We should split up – some chasing Dominguez to the temple, some staying in the city.”

There was a delay in Jonah’s response. She’d expected as much. “Right. I’m guessing you wanna be part of the temple group.”

“Preferably.”

He gave her a long look, then, exhaling, accepted the inevitability. “We’ll split our numbers.” He was half-turned towards Q’orianka’s relatively confused men when he appeared to get a flash of thought and turned back to her. “Just - keep your radio on.”

“You, too.” She smiled, grateful they avoided another argument. Now was certainly not the time and later, hopefully, it wouldn’t matter. They both addressed the soldiers in their native tongue:

“(You four, we’re staying in the city.)” Jonah announced, looking to his half of the group.

“(And you),” Lara continued, eyes on hers, “(to the temple with me.)”

*

One might call the journey to the temple ‘arduous’. One named ‘Lara Croft’, anyway. For her company, whom she imagined had experienced the most violence at a riot between cultists and citizens, were silent, but, betrayed by their expressions, shell-shocked.

Trinity swarmed the jungle in higher frequency than its inhabitants. Cries from birds, jaguars and creatures unknown – _perhaps_, Lara considered, _Yaaxil come to the surface_ – made for much of the atmosphere around them. Typical Trinity soldiers. Though their aim was wildly off-mark, their trigger-fingers itched as if they made a kill-shot every time.

Crouching in overgrowth alongside her comrades, Lara raised a finger to ensure they’d keep down and quiet. Three soldiers, suited in Kevlar, were approaching. Frankly, she’d wished for the unarmoured, bandana-bearing guys; they were a quicker job, very little risk of alerting others. Kevlar, as most knew, kept you alive somewhat longer, thus, opportunity was granted to shout and, though you may fall, your enemy would be battened down by your army’s worth of friends.

Shotgun and bow slung over her back, handgun seated in its grip upon her waist, it was the knife that she drew, taking a small step closer to the leading soldier. The man on his right was radioing a team closer to the temple, asking after Dominguez’s wellbeing.

_How sweet_, she thought, _whilst you’re at it, could you ask how close he is to kickstarting the apocalypse?_

The man must’ve been a telepath. His speech cut short, overtaken by a yell of: “Croft!”

_Worse_, the woman of subject thought, _a telepath with X-ray vision._

She shot out of the grass, as did her fellowmen, implanting her knife in the front-soldier’s abdomen and withdrawing it just as fast to be stabbed in his ribs. Knocking him down, she turned to deal with the others – but found them down, too, courtesy of her allies.

Glancing betwixt the four, she considered their equal combative ability and the multiple paths that could be taken forward unto the temple, and a plan of tactics came to mind. She voiced it:

“(I shall walk the direct path. You can divide the other directions amongst yourselves – moving forwards, of course).”

With some reluctance, or mildly suppressed disagreement, the Paititians chose their paths and, once finalised, the five split on individual routes, each flooded with Trinity, all leading to the temple. The structure itself was fully visible now, if not slightly hidden by uneven rifts in the ground – some tall, most likely made by nature, others quashed low, and very evidently not.

Had she not been in mortal coil, Lara would’ve stopped to admire the view. As it was, a quad of bandana-bearers was closing in on her right, shooting into the sky and shouting obtusely. They were thirsting for a fight; she’d deliver it to them.

Sinking low, gaze tracking the men as they plodded, or side-stepped, on a damp, thus unsteady surface, she pulled her bow off her back. Taking an arrow, she set it in the bowstring and drew back – releasing, it impacted the forehead of the bandana furthest right, who collapsed into a heap synchronously with his comrades firing her way.

Make this quick, she thought, heart hammering, adrenaline on a rushing course, launching one, two arrows into the guy furthest left, knocking him down and distracting his closest ally. He met the same fate within seconds, leaving a single bandana screaming for help.

In the near distance, in the paths of Q’orianka’s soldiers, whom would be his rescuers screamed and shouted back. Bullets thundered through the trees, sending birds soaring fast into the sky.

Lara launched an arrow into the bandana’s head, as she had the first of his group, and on her path at least came silence.

Her body began to rest – and jolted, disturbed by the static of a radio transmission. Seconds of silence pursued it, followed by further static, before Jonah’s voice came through.

“Lara,” crackling, presumably him stopping to take a breath, “Unuratu’s heading your way.”

Unuratu?

She snatched her radio off her hip, pressing the appropriate button as she spoke, “Jonah? Did you say -?”

“Yeah – she just came out of nowhere and grabbed a bow off one of my guys…” The littlest laugh escaped him. “Felt real familiar.”

“You need to send her back to the sanctuary.” Lara had no time for humour of any capacity, her clutch on the radio a little too tight, “She was shot, for God’s sake!”

“You didn’t think I tried?” he sounded offended, “She blanked me, and her own soldiers, too. Q’orianka came yelling but she was already gone. Must be coming your way now – so you’ll have to try telling her.”

Swallowing, Lara looked out to the temple, her mind all over the place. “Great. Well – I’ll radio when we’ve met up, then.”

“Alright. Be safe.”

Not knowing what more to say, she slid her radio back into its pouch, taking a fleeting glance about her surroundings. Unuratu was currently not in sight – should she wait for her? Should she keep going?

Patience – more importantly, ensuring Unuratu’s safety – was at the forefront of her mind, that was, until she spotted a cave, embedded into the green surface she stood upon, tunnelling into the subterranean. Perhaps Dominguez had used it to reach the temple – perhaps he _was using it _right now.

Her choice was made in an instant.

Breaking into a sprint, feet skidding across rather than hitting the ground, she wondered if she could – wished to – beat Amaru to the holy place.

“Lara! Wait!”

She spun around even faster, recognising that voice by the first syllable spoken, and spoke without thought. “You shouldn’t be out here!”

She paid for impulsiveness with Unuratu’s steely glare, which struck her like a slap. “You didn’t save me from that prison to stand by idly,” the queen spoke slow, with stinging quality, “I hope.”

Unuratu looked to be primed to shoot _her_. A small part of Lara’s mind wished she would; it’d be significantly less painful. Even more unfortunate still was the explorer’s struggle to apologise, how to voice the right words, so she continued what she’d started.

“No - but it was for Paititi’s protection. Your protection.”

Narrow eyes relaxed, widened, with unimpressed emotion. “Protection? Lara, I thought you’d be wiser - see that we’re one in the same, women who defend ourselves. I need no protection.”

One in the same. She doubted the realism of that notion. Regardless, her mind couldn’t help considering, then, worse, consuming it, and she nearly lost sense of the present. Nearly. She could never quite, what, with Unuratu looking at her so derogatorily.

“I know –” she started, but reconsidered, “I only want the best for you, Unuratu - and your city.”

She thought her reasoning had been decent, at minimum. ‘Decent’ clearly did not cut it for the queen. “As do I.” Unuratu locked her gaze a moment longer – Lara felt she couldn’t breathe, lungs constricted tight – before proceeding unto, and through, the cave.

It took the individual initially approaching a good few moments to release herself from the tension. When she did, she took up a fast pace, driven by the need to make an apology.

_Fuck._ Lara thought, squinting into the darkness as she entered the cave, Unuratu a small body in the far distance rapidly moving, _Fuck!_

Inhaling sharply, she burst into a run, calling out: “Unura –”

A roar of power to tear her eardrums apart, a blast of heat to skim her skin and a storm of shattered debris to render her blind, and Lara’s world went black.

Not for long, of course. Her body had experienced a great deal worse. When she awoke, she found herself laid on her belly, pinned beneath the now collapsed cave.

Trinity – the bastards must’ve set off explosives to ensure nobody else came through. “Shit!”

Gasping for air, she coughed instantly, oxygen clean no longer, swelled with dirt and dust.

She needed to get out.

But her axe was at her waist and she was pinned in position by the rocks.

She’d have to use her hands, drag herself out and pray against bodily damage. “For fuck’s sake.” Lara hissed, and started moving, fingers gripping a solid pile of debris beyond the brief gap. She thanked God in that moment, for she felt no pain, the rest of her body sliding easy across the grit. Nothing trapped, then.

She snorted. Nothing trapped, indeed.

Curling up in the gap best she could, she retrieved her axe. Her lungs grew wanting – but what the fuck could she do about that, besides strain them further?

Swinging her arm within the tiny area available, Lara ploughed her axe into the rock and ducked her head, hyper-aware of debris potentially blinding her. Rock smacked, likely leaving a few cuts and starting bruises, against her head. It didn’t matter. Nothing could, in comparison to the fantastic sensation of fresh air.

“Lara!” Unuratu shouted, the former woman catching sight of her in the small, axe-formed hole before she swiftly disappeared, “Hold on!”

“It’s okay!” Lara called back, “I’ve got my axe! I can dig myself out!”

“I’m certain you can,” Unuratu replied, her left leg covering the hole, “but my hands work faster.”

She could’ve protested. She chose not to. It would be unwise, doubly painful, after what had just unfolded – and she wasn’t thinking about the cave’s collapse.

So, she stilled her body, halfway to spreading her limbs out into their previous position when the rocks before her gave way; one, pulled free by Unuratu’s bare hands, the others succumbing to gravity in domino effect.

Lara, taken aback, returned as briskly as possible to the gap she’d come close to crushing herself within, and, on her right side, shoulder and head going first, pushed her rest of the way out. The sudden force to the weakened blockade broke in what was left of it; she emerged in a snap, landing hard on the side in which she’d came.

More bruises to enjoy later.

Not that they were at the forefront of her worried mind.

Lifting her head, she caught Unuratu’s gaze, and all the air she’d just inhaled exited sharply. She looked fine. She was fine. Returned to her blue robes from the prison guard disguise, the Paititian queen appeared utterly untouched, the dust from the cave’s collapse, in such micro amount, seemed more like embellished glitter upon her skin and clothing.

There was a small cut shallowly slashing her cheek – from when she’d fallen after being hit, Lara guessed – but (a strange opinion to have of scars, perhaps) it suited her.

“Lara,” speaking her name did nothing to return Croft to reality, “are you alright?”

When the woman in-question provided no quick response, she offered her a hand. Coming back around, Lara nodded gratefully and took it. Unuratu’s hand was soft, albeit temporarily roughened by grabbing at the rock and permanently, slightly calloused by years of responsibilities (climbing, holding, supporting, fighting…), and, surprising Lara, cool.

Climbing to her feet, their held hands lingered. “I’ll live,” Lara believed she’d said, when her volume was closer to a whisper, “are you?”

“Yes,” Unuratu replied, volume louder but tone warm, “I shall, too.”

A silence spread over them; it wasn’t awkward, rather, lost, with a strong sense of lasting. She wouldn’t have minded if it did.

Alas, Unuratu slipped her hand from hers and turned to the opening ahead. “What would you propose the fastest route to Amaru?”

Amaru.

It was then Lara remembered where they were.

“We’ll have to go from the catacombs, up.” she grimaced as she said it, a particular memory of being trapped down there springing to mind, “Through the Yaaxil.”

Unuratu eyed her confusedly. Something clicked abruptly, though, because a smile emerged moments later. “They won’t be a problem.”

Something clicked in Lara’s mind, as well. “Your destiny – it’s linked to them. How?”

“The Yaaxil’s purpose is to prevent the apocalypse. Once I enter the catacombs, I act as Ix Chel against Amaru’s Kukulkan, and they shall follow my lead, aides in my journey to stop the remaking of the world.”

“Incredible.” Lara nearly left the topic there, needing time to mull over this new information, when she had a thought. “Wait - if you’re Ix Chel…”

“The Crimson Fire,” Unuratu replied, “she shall act as Chak Chel.”

“Holy shit.” Nodding, hands resting on her hips, she tried to look not so mind-blown. “Okay – okay, that makes sense.” Speaking quieter, “That makes sense… how did I miss that?”

“Are you?”

“Sorry?”

“Okay? _Are_ you okay?”

Well, there couldn’t be any harm in delaying the inevitable a little longer. It meant more time spent with Unuratu, regardless. “I may, truthfully, need a minute.”

“I understand.” Unuratu

“How do you do it?” she questioned, “How do you take a bullet and get back up barely an hour later?”

Smiling, Unuratu lazily raised a brow. “How do you?”

Ah.

“Touché.”

They shared in the smile; it didn’t take long, however, for Lara to avert her eyes. In her peripheral, she saw Unuratu do the same. Sneaking a look at her, unable to resist such temptation, Lara noted the Paititian’s querying expression.

She broke the silence. “What is it?”

Unuratu’s eyes did not return to hers, instead opting for focus on the rocks behind them. “Your path is worn with violence. It is all I have ever seen of you. I’m wondering what else there is.”

Ouch. Lara supposed, though, that was the truth. Mostly. “I guess,” she answered, “violence tends to follow me. It’s the only logical response – if you want to survive, anyway.”

Paranoid she was acting snappy again, having yet to apologise, she added, “But besides that, I’m a - terrible cook.” _And – think, Lara, think._ “And an archaeologist with a terrible sense of humour?”

_Shit, shit_, she cursed herself, _how many “terrible”’s do you need? And what’s with the uncertainty? Be confident – you always are in every other situation -_

“A terrible cook.” the queen mused, and looked her in the eye, “What do you cook?”

_Why are we having this conversation?_ Lara thought, dying on the inside, _What have you started, Lara, for Christ’s sake?_

“Uhm,” _thinkthinkthinkthinkdammit_, “Roast – beef, chicken – turkey. Meat. With, uh – potatoes. Occasionally.” _Nailed it._

“Well,” Unuratu spoke more or less immediately, which was reassuring (and far less embarrassing than an intermittent silence), “you must prepare me a meal some time.”

_Okay_, Lara thought, eyes blinking wide, _wasn’t expecting_ that.

“_After_ we save the world -?”

“Oh, most definitely.”

Their gazes locked for so long, Lara didn’t realise she’d been grinning until she noticed Unuratu’s and then, of course, felt her own. Shortly proceeding that was her silent acknowledgement of their proximity. Her eyes flickered to her lips, unintentionally, _shit_, and back up too late. It was evident Unuratu had noticed. Not that it had been remotely subtle.

Lara desperately pondered what to say to save her dignity; Unuratu saved it for her. “We need to go.”

Reluctantly (she tried her best not to show the negative shift in mood), she nodded. “Yeah.”

Unuratu went first, exiting the darkness into the light despite the temple’s size swallowing the opening.

_Shit_, Lara thought, _forgot –_

“Unuratu,” the queen halted to face her, which near lodged Lara’s next words in her throat, “I forgot, I – I wanted to apologise. For being a,” might as well be blunt, “dick earlier. I was just – concerned about you, but clearly, clearly, you’re more than equipped to protect yourself.” Some hesitation preceded her finishing sentence. “Before and after taking a bullet.”

Thankfully, Unuratu smirked. Sadly, yet expectedly, Lara felt her cheeks grow hot.

“Apology accepted.” The queen eyed her with warm regard; momentarily, Lara believed the increased blush in result of that turned her gaze puzzled.

Until she realised, _of course_, Unuratu was waiting on her. She strode suddenly, awkwardly, and came close to tripping over her own feet in her first few steps. But that was fine. That was fine. She’d live through the humiliation.

What she worried they wouldn’t pass through unscathed, in spite of Unuratu’s reassurance, were they crawling in wait below.


	3. Chapter 3

The darkness was familiar.

If not for their torches, Lara doubted she would have been able to see anything aside from the rock walls around them. As it was, markings upon those walls, scuttling shadows and, least unnervingly, the ground, were visible.

She wished, however, that the good fortune of their torches would show an end to this tunnel. Just because she’d gotten used to the dark, didn’t mean she liked it. It made her mind wander much further than it did in the light.

Jonah hadn’t contacted her since the notification about Unuratu’s coming. The hand she put to her radio, she swiftly moved back to her side. As if she’d get a signal down here.

Silently exhaling, she made a promise to herself: _Soon as we hit the surface, call Jonah._

If they surfaced.

Lara grimaced, pushing the evil thought aside. This wasn’t the time or place for it. She had to keep a clear head, especially given they’d soon be facing the fucking Yaaxil. Of course, she trusted Unuratu and her belief in the prophecy, it all made sense (as much as a situation like it could), but she’d also trusted Jacob back in Siberia when he’d said the Guardians only wanted to protect the Divine Source.

Then again, he hadn’t been the type of guy to let her know that “protect the Source” meant “slaughter whomever went near it” - though, she guessed, she should’ve saw it coming. Since when was an undead army friendly?

Since now, apparently.

In spite of the many betrayals she had experienced, Lara still trusted fairly easily, and after knowing Unuratu for a few days, she’d gladly take her word for it that the Yaaxil were friendly. It was the mindless monsters she didn’t trust. They seemed a repeat very much of, albeit utterly unique in appearance to, the Guardians. A chill shot through her. If her mind fell far down the rabbit hole, she could taste the rusting steel at the end of a Guardian’s axe, as he swung at her throat and she leapt back, losing her footing on ice and hitting the ground. She scrambled into ascent, halfway there when he brought the ancient weapon down…

From Siberia, her memories turned to Yamatai. It all seemed so long ago, and all of it but Jonah, Reyes and Sam remained.

Sam.

It didn’t feel anywhere near as long since they’d last seen each other.

For the last time.

She remembered the evening well, a painfully clear vision of their apartment coming together before her.

Neither of them had been living there for some time. As a result, a musty smell plagued its entirety, greeting Lara as she gently busted through the back door. She’d misplaced her key, God knows when Sam would be coming back, she didn’t particularly want to coop up in another hotel; there was no alternative.

Besides, they resided on the louder side of London. Whilst she’d made her way in, fireworks were shooting into the sky, youths were yelling at each other.

Sam was gathering together her luggage. The duffle bag Lara had been holding hit the floor hard. Eyes locked in each other’s, one gaze wide and the other glaring, a deeply uncomfortable quiet came between them. It wouldn’t last. Not with Lara’s heart hammering in her head, blood rushing in her ears, her ears, ringing, and her mouth turning dry.

Lara spoke first. “Sam? What are you doing here?”

Sam smirked bitterly. “What does it look like?” She gestured to the bags and boxes circling her. “I’m leaving.”

“Leaving?” She couldn’t breathe, she couldn’t breathe, she couldn’t _fucking breathe _– “Where -? How long have you been back?”

Sam not only stood but appeared to act opposite to her; she looked to be restraining laughter. Lara’s ears rang louder. _Himiko? _she thought, _Have you returned somehow?_

“Oh, just today.” the other woman replied smilingly, “They finally let me out of that hellhole.”

Following the dark days of Yamatai, Lara had learnt that the soul transferral had in fact been successful. Himiko, an ancient Japanese queen who, in and beyond life, had cast storms and tsunamis upon her enemies, nearly gained absolute control of Sam. Without Lara’s noticing and subsequent, swift intervention, God knows what would’ve happened, but the after-effects of ‘killing’ Himiko were dire.

Samantha Nishimura went mad under Himiko’s control and that mental instability continued even after her ancestor was exorcised. She, by court ruling, was sent to a mental ward at a top-class hospital, which Lara was, for lack of a more accurate term, happy to pay for, and, last Lara had seen, was well on her way to recovery.

So, what was happening right now?

“Oh God, Sam,” she dived into her bag for her phone, the abrupt idea arising that her friend might’ve texted, “I’m so sorry, I’ve been –”

“Out of town, yeah, I know.”

The sheer bitterness in her voice caused Lara’s head to jerk up. The look in Sam’s eyes – she didn’t think Himiko was the source of her behaviour anymore. Swallowing a great lump in her throat, she began to say, “I can’t – Sam, I know I can’t apologise enough for not –”

“Being there for me?” That made Sam laugh. “I’m sure you can’t. Considering you’ve been back in London _several _times this year, but instead of checking in on your best friend, you chased ghosts around your precious father’s manor.”

Tears jumped free of Lara’s eyes. _Oh, God_, she thought, _Sam - what have I done to us? _Those words she should have voiced, she couldn’t bring herself to. Instead, a sob escaped her.

Sam eyed her with so many emotions. Disappointment, anger, sympathy she clearly didn’t want to feel, a faint sadness. Amongst the hundreds of things raging around her head, one shouted with a definitive voice at Lara: _She’s your best friend, and you loved her once, but nobody would believe it. Not when you haven’t seen her in a fucking _year.

“I’m - I’m sorry, Sa -“

“You’re not.” she cut her off, sharp, “You’re fucking not! For God’s sake, Lara, if you were, _if you were_, you wouldn’t have left me in that mental ward for Siberia!”

Lara’s speech fell from her mouth at impulse. “Wha - What else was I supposed to do?”

Both grimaced severely.

“Are you serious?” Sam snapped, “Fuck you, Lara.”

_Save this, Lara, for fuck’s sake, _she pleaded with herself,_ try not to fuck it up any more than you already have. _“I didn’t –”

“You could’ve _stayed_! I wanted you to –” Composure abruptly breaking, Sam’s eyes flung tears and she choked back a sob. “But you wanted to leave.”

Lara sobbed her name, wishing, _praying_ for Sam to come into her arms and drop this whole horrible affair. She couldn’t take it, she knew neither of them could.

Yet Sam held strong. Instead of letting go, she held onto this new path she’d made, and who could blame her? “Nice to see it’s the other way around,” she mused, albeit lacking an amused tone, “at last.”

Paralysed in place, shaking had started in her hands. If only she hadn’t been so obsessed, her world utterly revolving around herself, perhaps she would’ve remembered there were people in the actual world waiting on her. She had failed so many already and, now, she’d failed Sam.

“Anyway, as you can see, I’m ready to go.” She picked up one of several bags, looking at Lara like she needed to leave. “And I’ve got a flight to catch, so –”

“Sam -” she choked under the pressure of struggling breath, barely able to push out “please, don’t.”

“What other choice is there? Our old life is over, Lara, dead and buried. It took me a long while to realise it – you, evidently, not so much.”

She turned for the door. “Don’t try and find me like one of your lost tombs.” She looked back at Lara, some remorse in her eyes. “This is for the best, for both of us. I think that’s one thing we can agree on – at least, in time.”

“Let me help you move…”

Sam shut her down. “Just go, Lara. Just leave. I don’t belong here and neither do you.”

Staring, not at Sam, but at the space of wall beside her, Lara acknowledged there was a large part of her processing shock. It would be easier on them both if she went whilst she still felt numb. She picked up her bag, willing herself to say something, knowing she shouldn’t. ‘Goodbye’ felt wrong, anything else, inappropriate.

So, she left.

The worst thing was, the aching pain in her chest, that she hadn’t stood her ground. She hadn’t begged bloody-kneed for Sam to stay. She hadn’t gone after her or tried to find her once she’d come back to her senses. She’d never told Jonah exactly what had happened, out of fear – cowardly, disgusting, weak fear – he’d prompt her to. In the present day, Sam had walked away short of a year ago, yet it felt like last week. At least, the tear in her heart felt as fresh.

You were a selfish fool, she scolded herself, and you didn’t learn, _and now the world is ending. You’ve damned them all – Jonah, Reyes, Sam, they’re all -_

“One of us shall have to boost the other up,” Unuratu came to a stop as she spoke, but Lara’s swimming head distorted the Queen’s speech, and barely acknowledged she’d halted, “you look the physically stronger - Lara?”

Nearly bumping into her, Lara came around. “Shit,” she blinked at a lens of tears in each eye, “sorry.”

She’d made an awful attempt at hiding her emotions, seeing as much when she forced her gaze to meet Unuratu’s. A frown settled on her face. Nausea swirling in Lara’s gut, she made to look away when Unuratu rested gentle fingers on her forearm – under her touch, it was aflame. “What’s wrong?”

It was like rational thought left her in a vacuum. Lara could think of, thus, say nothing, so spoke as much. “Nothing.”

Eyebrows raised, Unuratu nodded with the same emphatic nature that possessed her voice, “I believe you.”

“Sorry, I –” She stopped herself there. No – no more sob stories. Just as much was at stake for Unuratu as it was for her, as it was for everyone else on the goddamn planet, going about their ordinary business, having not a clue that their lives were endangered by a tomb raider’s recklessness. Taking a breath, she tried again. “How do you stay focused? Not think about what could possibly go wrong – our uncertain fate if –”

“I don’t.” Unuratu replied, her firm tone softened by a small smile, “One cannot afford to at a time like this.” Hesitation flashed in her eyes. Wanting to hear whatever she had to say, no matter bad or good, Lara took a half-step closer to her, expression, encouraging, and heart racing. They were so close…

“Why do you fear failure?” Unuratu inquired, which shook Lara a little.

She took a moment to answer. “I - I fuck up so much,” she said, lifting shoulders that felt heavily weighed down, “I don’t feel ashamed anymore. But those fuck-ups are temporary, and I can resolve them. Failure as an endgame, however - I could never shake that, and it’s what I fear is going to happen.”

Unuratu’s gaze narrowed and her brow creased. “You don’t believe I can fulfil the prophecy?”

“No – no,” she reassured her in seconds, “I believe in you. Unuratu, I believe in you completely.” She swore she saw her cheeks darken with red. One couldn’t really tell in the dark, still, it brought a stutter to her proceeding statement, “I just – I – what if I can’t fulfil my role? What if you fail because of me?”

“I won’t.” Unuratu’s hold on her forearm became lighter, before gently massaging, and Lara’s breath caught in her throat, “I know I won’t, and you won’t, Lara.”

Conflict appeared to consume the Queen. Inwardly, Lara grimaced. They needed to leave this topic alone. She wasn’t her therapist. Not that she’d want to try therapy again, after discovering her first - and last - aide worked for Trinity. They were always steps ahead of her; they were now. She and Unuratu needed to keep moving, else they’d get too far ahead.

“Come on,” Lara swallowed, resisting the urge to wipe nervous sweat from her forehead, “we shouldn’t stand around when Amaru’s not.”

Not wanting to waste another minute, she started walking again.

But Unuratu didn’t. “Lara.”

She stopped, looking over her shoulder at the hesitant woman behind. There was something about the way her eyes widened, and mouth formed the slightest ‘o’ of uncertainty that made Lara’s heart stutter.

Stop getting distracted.

Straightening her stance, she broke her current train of thought by pushing ahead. “What is it?

Lara watched a shortly-lived debate bounce back and forth in Unuratu. To her surprise (and disappointment), “it doesn’t matter,” was what she decided upon, “you’re right. Let’s go.”

Although a strong want in her rose to know what Unuratu had not said, Lara pushed it aside. Bearing a small smile, she nodded before tilting her head towards their ongoing path. Reflecting the expression, Unuratu joined her in amply pacing through.

A few feet more were covered when the Queen’s breathing suddenly shallowed.

“What is it?” Lara asked, stopping dead, eyes darting about. She saw nothing, but the look in Unuratu’s eyes...

“The Yaaxil are close,” she whispered, her voice reverberating along the rock, “I can feel them.”

A shudder took Lara’s spine. _Great_, she thought, _better check my shotgun’s loaded, then._


	4. Chapter 4

They met the Yaaxil halfway. Unuratu had gone first into a sudden dip in the tunnel, despite Lara’s insistence she should lead given the Queen’s importance. Arrow loosely held between two fingers, its head resting on the bowstring, Lara entered the new path shortly after Unuratu, and her eyes were everywhere.

It was not unlike the tunnel they had been traversing, rock-walled and else composed of dirt, but something about it _felt _different. There was a drop in temperature – and –

Snarls and an incomprehensible language hissed had her spinning around, and what was once shadows behind them was newly occupied by a skeletal army painted in red: the Yaaxil. In one swift move, she raised her handgun a few centimetres short of touching the nearest one’s face. It snarled in warning. She had half a mind to snarl back.

Ultimately, she decided not to, given there looked to be about one-hundred – plus – gathering around them. She didn’t, however, lower her weapon. A thought crossed her mind as she scanned their faces, the aggression they displayed enhanced by features echoing hell. _Where is she?_

‘She’ appeared on cue, emerging from the shadows before them with a perfect calm, and coming to stand beside Unuratu. Lara, for a long moment, considered aiming at her, but Unuratu’s eyes spoke strongly against it. Hand slightly lifted, she spoke soft reassurance. “Lara, it’s fine.”

As she turned to face the Crimson Fire, wearing a firm but welcoming expression, Lara lowered her gun to her side. Unuratu knew what she was doing – she presumed as much, anyway – and she trusted her; it’d be pointless to start a fight when there was none to be had without her catalysing it. Stretching her ear to hear them, Lara swore she heard bits and pieces of an unrecorded ancient language exchanged between the Crimson Fire and the Queen. Oh, how she wished to know its name in that moment – but she kept her mouth shut and waited.

A few minutes of the incomprehensible whispering passed – a few minutes too long, in Lara’s frank albeit exclusively inward opinion – before a soldier of the Crimson Fire’s, an archer, Lara noted, came forward, presenting their leader with a beautiful golden mask, almost a headdress in its continuing upward design.

“Chak Chel.” Unuratu whispered; Lara noted a catch in her breath and felt her paranoia struggle with sense.

It lessened when the Crimson Fire took a step back, bowing her head to the prophecy’s other half. “Ix Chel.”

Typically, she reacted fast, but Lara’s brain came to a slow in this moment, transfixed on Unuratu as the Crimson Fire placed a mask upon her. It was a beautiful piece, intricately designed, possibly – in fact, undoubtedly composed of gold and other rich materials, somehow woven together as if they were wool.

Most wouldn’t have known how to process such an image, but in this case, Lara wasn’t ‘most’. Unuratu appeared the strongest she’d ever been, her beauty inexplicably more radiant, perhaps due to the mask’s features bringing out Lara’s favourites of hers. The Queen’s oval eyes seemed darker, deeper, and her rounded lips, currently pursed, were almost red in comparison to their respective area upon the mask.

Feeling the Queen’s eyes turn to her, and subsequently, everyone else’s, whatever nerves Lara had had were shot straight up.

“It suits you.” she came out with - half-joking.

Unuratu, however, seemed to take her words with a complete seriousness. Not that Lara minded, especially when a smile came forward. “Thank you.”

“And so it begins.” she murmured, gaze travelling to the Yaaxil on her right.

On her left, Lara returned her gun to its holster, bringing out instead her axes. She offered one to Unuratu, who took it – again, causing Lara’s heart to jump in rate – with a smile, albeit the smaller of the two thus far given. She hoped there’d be more at the end of all this.

“Let’s go!” the Queen declared, and the Yaaxil raised their weapons, unleashing a synchronous war cry – a chorus of screeching, more like – that near frightened Lara out of her skin (_creepy bastards_, she thought, and as if she’d heard her – maybe she somehow had – the Crimson Fire shot her what she interpreted as a zombie’s best dirty look).

*

From the tunnel, the army of Ix and Chak Chel had rushed into a subterranean warzone. Trinity were everywhere – choppers and soldiers, gunfire running rampant – but Lara needn’t have drawn a weapon nor raised a fist. The Yaaxil dealt with their opponents as an agitated person would deal with a bothersome insect. Trinity fell almost simultaneously with their rise.

Lara certainly wasn’t complaining, albeit disturbed by the undead’s capabilities. They swiftly gained on the temple; it could’ve been no more than fifteen minutes before she and Unuratu, at the head of the charge - though definitely not ‘leading’ it - were ascending.

Together, the pair had climbed to its peak, catching a glimpse of Trinity’s godforsaken leader before diving into cover.

There was something awfully off about Amaru, and it wasn’t his cultist attire that rubbed Lara the wrong way. It wasn’t his mask, intricately carved as Unuratu’s was with what she presumed Incan-like inspiration; that was a thing of beauty, despite its wearer.

It was what laid beneath, revealed by his eyes, possessing a lifelessness she had seen only in the Oni and Deathless Ones. As the eclipse drew ever closer, Lara noticed his skin adopt a golden shimmer – almost, in fact, identical in shade to lava, yet it appeared he were in no pain. Rather, he had become the most powerful person in the vicinity – by a _very _considerable stretch.

As Lara knelt in place, inwardly debating a course of action, Unuratu made to jump. Thank God she’d noticed – she grabbed the Queen’s arm before Amaru or his warriors caught sight of her.

Of course, it came at the cost of Unuratu being pissed off at her. “What are you doing?” she hissed, “Amaru possesses the power of Kukulkan – if he is allowed to reach the moment –”

“We need a plan.” Lara hated to cut her off, but like Unuratu said – sort of – they were short on time. It was then she, after some delay, noticed a certain army’s absence. “Wait. Where -?”

“The Yaaxil cannot attack here,” Unuratu replied, “these are sacred grounds. They must wait for us to deal with the threat.”

“Great,” Lara swallowed, gaze swaying from Amaru to the brazen woman beside her, “you go right, I go left?”

After slight pause, Unuratu’s gaze flickered into hers. Lara’s pulse quickened and, despite the completely inappropriate circumstances, it wasn’t purely out of fear for their upcoming circumstances. “On three?”

“Sure,” she breathed, not as collected as she would’ve liked to sound, “One.”

Unuratu pulled an arrow into her bowstring. “Two.”

In the few seconds she used to check her bullet cartridge, everything around Lara and Unuratu went to shit.

Bright, burning light blasted through what had been their protector wall. The women were thrown in opposing directions, though dually came close to rolling fast off the edge. Lara recovered fast, grimacing as her ears rang, and – _shit _– blood leaked out of her left nostril.

_Thanks for the broken nose_, she thought, narrowing her gaze as Amaru sauntered towards her, his men on Unuratu.

“Girls, girls - did you think I could not hear you? Did you think I could not _see_ you, conspiring against me?” Amaru raised his arms, gesturing as if to say, _Look how goddamn powerful I am_, shortly before he actually did, “I have obtained ultimate power,” a wide grin broke his mask’s intimidating illusion, “and I shall use it to remake this foul planet with divinity!”

It was clear Amaru had lost his mind – in fact, in this state, Lara could see, crystallised, a man with the motivation to kill whomever put a block between him and his desires – her father, Lord Richard Croft, being one of them, leaving her orphaned and, for years to come, hateful of him. She took that hate she’d once had for her father – removed upon learning the truth - and channelled it towards Amaru. She’d need it in the minutes to come, to keep her strong in an undoubtedly brutal fight.

Out of the corner of her eye, she clocked his warriors swarming their old Queen; in two swift movements, Lara retrieved an arrow off her back and shot it Amaru’s way. She was twisting around, swinging herself forwards and up onto her feet, centred on assisting Unuratu, when the arrow came back, slicing the surface of her left forearm.

_What the hell? _she thought, grimacing as she spun back around, synchronised damningly perfect to Amaru’s movements, for his hand was suddenly at her throat and plummeting Lara back to the tiled ground.

Wind knocked out of her lungs; she wheezed, coughed, and clutched at his holding arm, attempting to pull the pinning force from her.

His grip as malicious as his grin, Lara gritted her teeth and slammed an elbow into his arm – once, twice, thrice – which failed to do anything but amuse him.

“Give up.” he encouraged; the sing-song quality to his voice didn’t exactly make her want to.

Despite her vision becoming black-spotted, and an unbearable heat building in her throat, she smiled. Anything to break his happy mood. “I think I’ll pass,” she squeezed out, “thank you.”

Unfortunately, Amaru grinned. Fortunately, it spurred her by infinite measure to live, but clutching at Amaru’s grip was entirely ineffective. She needed a new approach, yet, she could barely think of one – think at all, for that matter, with her input of oxygen running out.

_Hunting knife_, her brain spat, and she acted as fast as it found a solution, grabbing the weapon from its thigh holster and slashing at Amaru. She’d intended to cut his throat; given her steadily blackening vision, however, she cut a shallow line in his mask instead.

S_hit._

Amaru’s outrage at her accidental insult sent a violent shudder through his body, and with a roar, he raised her in the air. Out of alternatives, she was left with stabbing him in the arm – he launched her to the tiles before she could make a move.

And then Lara did not move at all. He removed his grip on her throat, turning to the Queen, perhaps, or his men… she was unsure. She wasn’t aware of much then, other than the blood pooling out of a deep gash in the back of her head.

The pool spread thicker, faster, and her senses were overwhelmed by pungent copper as crimson splashed at either cheek. Really, she should’ve been calling for help, but things felt so calm that she simply laid there, eyes on the dark sky split in-half by sunlight.

She thought she heard Unuratu calling her name. With some effort, Lara lifted her head, crying out at the unanticipated burn, forming – rather, formed because of – a crack from top to bottom at the back of her head. Through searing pain that temporarily turned her sight white, she caught the tail-end of a fight between apparent King and true Queen, as she plunged a knife – _her_ knife – _Lara’s_ hunting knife, she recognised it – into Amaru’s chest. Lara sighed with relief – at the fight being over, at Unuratu being alright, at the sudden lightness in her head – and her vision spotted in black before it faded into the dark entirely.

As soon as she’d picked up Lara’s knife, she’d lost it – to a ‘good’ cause, of course. Unuratu frowned upon her brother-in-law’s fallen body. No death, whether at her hands or another’s, was ‘good’, even if it were done with good intent.

Collecting herself with steadying breath, Unuratu looked across the tiles. Seeing Lara, she broke into a sprint.

“Oh –” she knelt before the other woman, her eyes shot open and unblinking, “Lara? Lara?”

_No _was the only word coming to mind. She couldn’t process what was before her – it was too much. _No, no, no._

How had this happened? Lara was so… She was a warrior, fiercer than most in the Paititian militia – how…?

_You allowed this to happen_, a small voice, steadfastly growing, said, _you have lost another._

She didn’t realise she’d started crying until a tear of hers fell onto Lara’s face. She was so still – she was so still, but not at peace. Amaru had caught her out, overwhelmed her in an instant, and Unuratu had been incapable of stopping what happened next.

“Please,” she whispered, a shake clasping her voice, “I lost Sayri to him… I cannot lose her as well.”

The world responded with silence – _damn it to the underworld_. Why did life make her suffer so? It was as if Amaru had enchanted a curse upon Unuratu, of misery at the turn of victory. He had never shown knowledge of witchcraft, but it would not have surprised her. The bastard always got his way, somehow, impossibly…

“Oh, Lara,” she murmured, bringing her into her arms, “I’m sorry.”

Pressing her forehead into hers, she prayed that Kukulkan take mercy. As she would die, Lara must live. One of them had to, to tell Etzli of his mother’s sacrifice – that it had been of her choice, that she had died valiantly – and his uncle’s being expelled from the earth, as so rightly deserved. There was some justice in the world.

She prayed for the earth to provide good karma, as well. Lara had to live, else Unuratu’s sacrifice would not be accepted. No god could reap gold from a broken heart.

Unuratu exhaled, pushing back the tears that threatened to rip apart what little resolve she retained.

“Please,” she whispered, “Kukulkan, I repent – anything, all things done wrong, and all done right, so that she may come back to me.”

She considered repetition of the prayer when her arms began to glow golden, as Amaru’s had. A tremble took her hands, worsening at her fingers, but she couldn’t have cared less to stop such shaking. The light descended, from her forearms, to her fingers, to settle at the centre of Lara’s chest.

She did not burst back to life, rather, her chest began to rise, then fall, at a steady rate. _Oh, Lara_, Unuratu thought, tears trying to prick free as the explorer’s eyes cracked open, _if only my destiny were different._

“Lara,” Unuratu spoke at once, though pausing briefly to prevent her voice breaking, “can you hear me?”

The woman she cradled looked confused; her question, however, settled Unuratu’s uneasiness. “Unuratu - what did you do?”

“I took Amaru’s power,” the Queen explained, though she understood but the basics of this miracle herself, “and his life.”

“Amaru’s dead?”

Giving a small nod, Unuratu found it difficult to speak further. Holding Lara like this caused great warmth to spread through her, increased the beat of her heart. Lara herself did not seem to mind it, either, gazing up at Unuratu with, dare she consider it, gentle desire.

Alas, she sensed the approaching presence of a third. Taking Lara’s hands, Unuratu rose them both to stand. It was time.

_Something’s not right here_, Lara thought, anxious eyes darting betwixt the Queen and the Crimson Fire.

“What must you do now?” she asked, though she didn’t want to hear the answer. She had a horrible feeling she knew it already.

“Fulfil the prophecy.” Unuratu answered, a long pause of hesitation proceeding… but she had to tell her. There was no way around this. “Sacrifice my life so the world may live.”

Lara was startled, far more than she really should’ve been - _you should’ve known _\- and her eyes grew wide and wet, more so upon noticing the Crimson Fire had appeared on the opposite side of the peak. She was coming to stand beside a stone altar.

“No…” She shook her head, wanting to rip her gaze from the Queen to the ground, but raging emotions forced her focus to stay as it were, desperately pleading with the beautiful, now damned, woman before her – damned, _because_ of her. “There has to be another way!”

Pain etched into Unuratu’s eyes. Maybe she could convince her, maybe it wasn’t an impossible notion. “Unuratu, please, this can’t –“

She cut her off, pain thrown out of her irises for a firm anger. “It must. This is how the world is saved, Lara. I thought we had discussed -”

“_Bullshit_ – yeah, we definitely talked about you having to fucking _die_ for the rest of us to live!”

“Would you prefer an all-annihilating apocalypse?”

“No!” Lara huffed hard, looking everywhere but into the Queen’s eyes, unable to handle the contact in that moment, “Dammit – _god-fucking-dammit_!”

“Lara, you have to let this be.”

“You’re insane –”

“Lara.”

Reluctantly, Lara succumbed to the soft sound of Unuratu speaking her name, gaze falling into hers.

“Let this be the greatest sight you shall ever experience.” the Queen remarked upon turning towards her, the little smile playing on her lips turning teasing as she added, “In your line of work.”

Shaking her head, Lara’s thoughts moved one-hundred miles a minute, impossible to process. She could feel a heavy presence behind her – the Yaaxil, undoubtedly, here to watch the show. _Fuck_, she was going to be sick.

The Queen stepped back at a steady pace, her destiny’s other half awaiting her at the altar. “Goodbye.”

_No, no –_

Lara’s mind rushed through possible solutions; sure, she might have been an efficient troublemaker, but she always found a way out. An answer that prevented the taking of further lives.

There was one thing she could try. One last thing.

“Unuratu –!”

She turned to Lara in an abrupt swing, undoubtedly about to make a firm, negative remark, given the way her brow creased tenfold, her eyes narrowed into near-slits, her lips crushed together in a shaky line. Lara, on the other hand, had nothing to say. Only something she had to do.

Bringing a hand down to clasp Unuratu’s shoulder, she drew the Queen into – albeit a jarred action as waves of nerves washed over her – a kiss.

Initially, Lara’s mouth melded against Unuratu’s without response, and remorse flooded through her system like poison. But, as she broke away, the lips she’d touched chased hers, and arms, _her_ arms, wrapped around Lara’s neck, reeling her back in. Their mouths met with desperation, meshing together, moving fast, and messy, and spinning both Lara’s head and stomach with butterflies bursting to escape. Though, she never wanted to escape this.

As her arms laced around Unuratu’s waist, her love – _her love_ – reclined from their embrace, looking at Lara with eyes uncertain, surprised. Lara supposed it was better than angry or disgusted, yet still her heart beat threateningly.

A moment passed in which they stirred in an unsure silence, then, solemnity entered Unuratu’s eyes. She spoke quietly as she retook her steady backwards step. “You have to let me go.”

Lara stepped forward. A skeletal hand clamped onto her shoulder, keeping her in place – one of the Crimson Fire’s soldiers. Lara was speechless, emotions flaying about in her head. All she could muster was the quiet beginnings of a protest. “No…”

Breaking free of the soldier’s grasp, she ran for Unuratu, though her gaze was transfixed on the knife hovering above.

Behind her, Lara heard protest yelled from several soldiers, and an arrow skimmed her forearm, slicing off a thin section of skin. _Like I care_, her mind raged, _like I _fucking care_._

She gained on the representatives for Ix and Chak Chel swiftly, seconds passing between her feeling too far away and now reaching for Unuratu, fingers painfully outstretched. Either the Queen did not see her, or she played ignorant for the sake of her ‘purpose’ – _her purpose could not be to_ die! – but Unuratu laid on the sacrificial tablet as if Lara’s yells to “stop!” were inexistent.

The Crimson Fire, similarly, did not acknowledge the forthcoming combination of anguish and rage. She lifted the damning knife in a quick swing.

It descended as rapidly.

The knife pierced and pushed into Unuratu’s chest. It felt as if it’d laid course in hers, too.

Lara fell forwards, numbness possessing her legs and feet and she sprawled across the tiles for a brief time before two Yaaxil took hold of her.

As they pulled her up, she shut down. Every aspect of her body simply decided to stop functioning. If not for the soldiers holding her at attention, she would’ve returned to the floor.

Momentarily, all was quiet and dark, but for the ringing in her ears and her memory’s clear image of Unuratu’s gaze, despite best resistance to remain neutral, succumb to melancholy.

And then the eclipse hit a crescendo, and bolts of golden light shot from the eyes and mouth of its sacrifice. She was witnessing a beautiful nightmare and, at first, believed she would now permanently live numb, and silent.

Who was she to lend the world her voice when it had stolen the life of another person she loved?

That was, however, until she heard a woman’s distant screaming. It set writhing curls in her blood, her skin shaken by goosebumps, as the sound she had barely coined, for it sounded inhuman. It projected loss at the greatest level, its intonation breaking shrill.

She was quick to realise, too, that it originated in her. She continued.

The Yaaxil had begun to surround her, an impenetrable fortress of undead bodies inclined to violence against their great moment’s disturbance. Lara’s eyes, welling up, she shut, dually to be blind to them.

All she wanted to see, all she wanted to possess her bruised and battered and broken head…

She screamed until she felt her throat burn out.


	5. Chapter 5

Unuratu travelled through a tunnel of smoke. She did not travel on foot. Lifted by some incredible force, the power of Kukulkan, presumably, she shot through the centre of this long vortex, otherwise composed of arcing, fluorescent light. The Queen fixed her gaze ahead; to look into the light, she feared, could leave her blind. It was so _bright_. Was she ascending to Paradise? She prayed for as much.

Her journey lasted what felt like minutes; she considered that in reality, however, years, perhaps eons, might well have passed when the tunnel dipped and she fell slowly through, landing gently on a surface unnervingly soft. It appeared to be made of cloud. She had so many questions. She did not expect answers.

A familiar voice, reverberating about the strange space, startled her from internal query. _Was that…?_ Unuratu breathed calmly, focusing on a steady rhythm. _No, impossible. _It was Kukulkan, trying to trick her. Now, He could very well torment her until the end of her days – or perhaps, forever – but she would never fall for such pathetic attempts to undo her. _So pathetic as –_

The voice called again with an urgency, and louder. Cursing quietly, Unuratu turned quickly in a full circle, surveying what surrounded her. There was nothing and nobody else around. She was alone. She was being tricked.

As she returned to her original position, she nearly lost her footing. Stumbling backwards, crying out, Unuratu was faced by her husband.

“Unuratu – my love –”

“Get away from me!” she snapped, “Foul illusion! I will not be so cruelly tricked.”

Sayri’s expression spouted shock, and some upset. Uncertainty wracked Unuratu. Perhaps this was real. It was not an unbelievable notion that they had been reunited in Paradise, but nonetheless, it felt wrong. Sickeningly so.

“My love,” she started, swallowing to fix a dried throat, “what is this? Where are we?”

A frown creased Sayri’s features. Nausea stirred in her stomach. He looked flawless, or as flawless as he had looked in life. “I’m afraid I cannot tell you.”

She scoffed, a thought occurring – mad, perhaps, but this entire scenario was as much. “This is a trial?”

Frown deepening, he reiterated, “I cannot tell you.”

Her expression mirrored his. In unfavourable situations like this, where control was not in her hands, she could usually resist the sickly sensations under her skin, but nausea took her stomach as uncertainty clogged her mind.

“Sayri,” she spoke firmly, and with a hard gaze locking his, “are you truly here before me?”

“Touch me.” he replied as resolutely, “Know for yourself.”

His words stunned her as much as his appearance. He extended a hand to her; her gaze tracked the movement until it stopped, small space betwixt it and her. Scouring the lines in his offered, upturned palm, she searched for the slightest difference which would indicate falsity. Yet she found nothing; the three central lines made loops that came so short of touching; the little ones running up to each of his fingers were slightly erased under the calloused state of their surface.

Unuratu flicked her eyes into his once more – deep, dark ovals with the tiniest tint of gold to the far right of either iris. A sigh fell from her lips. Even if he were real… “I cannot. That is too easy a trap.”

Yet in spite of her words, a powerful force willed her to close the gap between them; she resisted abhorrently. She had sacrificed herself to a God. He was not about to make her his personal jester, also.

It didn’t help matters when Sayri’s firm expression caved under a melancholic smile. “You make a good point.”

“I am surprised I can,” she somewhat rushed out, “given the circumstances.”

His next words jumped her. “Circumstances of so little time. Tell me of Paititi, my love, whilst we have this time together. How is Etzli, Uchu, Q’orianka?”

Her immediate was to ask him what he meant, before remembering he could not tell her. Was his word bound, then, by the will of Kukulkan?

Would hers be?

“They are well.” she answered, hesitating only for a moment before deciding to add, “But they would be all the better without your brother’s evils.”

His unreadable expression returned in an instant. Not that she didn’t know what that meant. Unuratu pushed her tongue against her cheek, already hearing the words before he spoke them. Sayri’s simultaneously best and worst quality was being frustratingly sympathetic. “Amaru acted out of self-preservation, some delusion – but there was good in him. It was simply misguided.”

“Amaru does not deserve –”

Unuratu’s snapping stopped short, self-commanded. There was no point to this bitterness; it was over now, was it not? Amaru was dead, if his brother referring to him in past tense was an indicator - and so was she. Besides that, perhaps it would be worth trying to exercise a little more empathy. As she considered it, her thoughts were skewed over to Lara. Like Sayri, she had been – she _was_, for she was still alive - _she has to be_ – the heart of gold next to Unuratu’s cold steel. Always apologising, always feeling guilty – always feeling, outwardly, without inner contention.

Swallowing, Unuratu recomposed herself.

“It does not matter - it matters no longer. I have sacrificed my life to save my people, regardless of whose side chosen. My duty has been fulfilled.”

“So, our son shall rule?” he enquired, slightly irking Unuratu, as he had done in life, with a tone that took on some bother, “Is it wise to leave Etzli so young with so much responsibility?”

“I get the strange sense you do not want me here.”

A short, sad laugh escaped him; her heart jumped to her throat, remaining there achingly as he spoke. “Unuratu, my love, what I would give – I would give anything to return to the land of the living. But surely you must sense it, too.”

She denied him, spurred by a chance to learn what was desired of her here. “You speak in riddles, Sayri.”

“You have changed, Unuratu,” he mused, a light of humour taking to his eyes, and calming her, “in no way damning, but you have changed, nonetheless. You are not the woman I remember when I was alive.”

Still, she disputed, “Nonsense -”

“You are a queen.” he spoke over her, cutting Unuratu to silence, “A fighter - a warrior - and far too young to die.”

“What are you saying -?”

“I am saying, my Queen,” he continued, and urgently, “forgive me, rather, I am asking - in whom does your heart lie?”

Her mind rushed – was her trial in action? She answered what immediately came to mind. “Paititi.”

“And whom else?”

“Our friends, if you recall,” she spoke slowly, “our people. Etzli.”

“Yes…?”

She narrowed her gaze. “Speak clearly, Sayri.”

“I detect another,” he replied nonchalantly, “but you seem reluctant to admit your feelings.”

A heat took her face, turning it scarlet, and Lara’s image reappeared amongst her mess of a mind. A gentle warmth brushed her lips; subconsciously, she raised two fingers to them, yet they felt cooler with the contact. The look on the other woman’s face as she’d walked away – the desperation in her voice – Unuratu’s heart broke at the recent memories, searing through her. She’d burnt more than herself in her actions – for the better of the world, nonetheless, but… _Lara…_

Internally, time surged backwards to their first encounter. An outsider, a would-be coloniser – ‘perfect’ trouble – standing tall even though she was below her. How initial appearances could be deceiving. The Lara she had come to know these past few days was so much more than her lineage of treasure hunters and tomb raiders. The look in her eyes as she’d put her body over Unuratu’s, seconds after being shot by one of Amaru’s dogs: it was so intense, impassioned with an enraged misery unlike anything she had ever seen in a person, let alone a woman.

Unuratu felt the reverberations now, of how her heart had raced then. _Yet…_

“Sayri,” she cautioned, “you do realise in speaking these words, you are being heretical.”

To her further surprise, he lifted his shoulders, and although the melancholic smile had returned, he seemed happier. “I suppose so. But I am also long gone from the world that would deem me such.”

Silence transposed. A heavy beating started in her head.

Sayri spoke swiftly, as if the sand in the invisible hourglass was running shallow. “Unuratu, you shall always be my love, and I know I shall always have a part of you with me, as you do with I, but you need not torment yourself.”

“What are you saying, Sayri?”

“That our pathways are no longer aligned.” The way he eyed her – distant now, almost lost – were they coming to a farewell? “Be free, Unuratu. Return to where you belong by…”

“Yes?”

He grunted frustratedly, pain crossing his features. “I can say no more.”

For better or worse, however, Unuratu needn’t hear confirmation, for despite the small war occurring inside of her, the answer was clear. This had been a trial. To sacrifice a great part of her life, her purpose for these past few years. To let of the past...

If that was what it took to return to Etzli, to Uchu and Q’orianka, to rule Paititi – she felt guilty to consider it a pinnacle of her concern, but… to see Lara again…

“Sayri,” she began,

“I shall treasure the time we have been afforded together, both here and in our past life. But as I have said, it is our past life, and I – and I must move on. I must be Queen of Paititi, I must lead our people regardless of whom they aligned themselves with during the war. I forgive Amaru, for he was only trying to accomplish what I desired, only of a more extreme calibre. I shall return to Etzli and raise him in the image we originally intended. One day, he shall become a great King, and that is in credit not of myself, but advisors his and mine.

And you are right, a piece of my heart is eternally yours,” she did not stop the tears falling free, nor the words that accompanied them, “but I love another now. And I must see her again.”

With what felt like a great breath, dragging the air from her lungs, she concluded stronger,

“I _will_ see her again.”

Further tears slipped free but Unuratu blinked those back, desiring to look for as long as she could at her past love as he disappeared inside the cloudy light. She wanted for words, but nothing could come to mind of significance. Something in her felt that a simple goodbye would not suffice. This was a process she had to let complete itself in silence.

Yet her mind, in contrary, was not. If she had succeeded, if all was what she believed it to be, would she return to the world she had inhabited before?

The light came towards her now. She closed her eyes in anticipation. Although she would have preferred to look, it felt safer not to jinx fate. A hot flush passed through her, as if she were suddenly, intimately surrounded by an inferno.

Her eyes kept firmly closed.

*

Everything had happened so fast. _It shouldn’t have happened. It shouldn’t have – _Grimacing, Lara hit the back of her hand against her forehead. Was it the sudden headache that hurt worse, or the wicked, little voice now circling? _There was no other way_, she told it, _Unuratu had to fulfil her destiny._

From where she’d been hunched over, Lara rose to sit up, sliding her legs out from under her; she needed, at least, a little comfort right now. The Yaaxil – she wasn’t sure how, or why, but after Unuratu had been absorbed in that blinding light, they’d vanished. The skin-breaking grips showed on her shoulders and arms, bleeding inconsequentially from small, clawed punctures.

Before her, the sky was a beautiful evening’s orange, hazy with the accompaniment of black clouds. The sun, for some inexplicable reason, was half-sunken out of sight. Lara scanned the horizon, a little unnerved. The moon was nowhere to be found.

Had time reset itself? Her heart jumped in her throat. _Am I still in the present?_

Surging to her feet, Lara retrieved her radio. “Jonah,” she spoke fast, “Jonah, can you hear me? It’s Lara. I’m – I’m at the temple.”

She didn’t know what else to say. Waiting on a response, Lara began to anxiously tap her foot against the tiles. The ground around her was emptied of all but herself. What had happened to Amaru? Had the Yaaxil taken him with them, or -?

“Lara!” Jonah cried across the radio, “Oh, thank God you’re alright! What’s happening up there?!”

“I...” She exhaled, the breath released shaky, and the air she then inhaled brittle on her throat, “Can - Can you come and get me, Jonah?” Her cheeks burnt in shame. _Get yourself together, girl. _But, how could she? “So much has happened.”

“Okay, okay, don’t move.” Jonah, her rock, God, she’d love him forever, replied instantaneously, “Q’orianka and I are coming up to get you.”

“Okay.” Lara swallowed, curling her empty fist in her lap, “please don’t rush. I’m fine.”

He half-laughed her name down the radio. “If you expect me to walk to you, dragging my heels, then something must be seriously wrong.”

_Damn right._

“How’s Unuratu?”

A sob caught in her throat, leaving her as taken aback as, undoubtedly, her friend on the other side. _Shit – fuck. _Lara, despite knowing she should provide an answer given Jonah’s company, couldn’t bear to say another word. “I’ll see you in a bit.”

She prayed he would not pry further; he must have heard her, for he replied minutely. “Okay. See you in a minute.”

She might’ve laughed at herself if not the circumstances; when she tried to slide the radio back in its holster, she missed completely, and it fell, with a pathetic twirl, about the tiles.

Shaking her head, Lara swallowed the hard lump in her throat. She was aware of the persistent shake absorbing her body; she made to ignore it, to keep herself together.

But when the second, choking cry came, she gave in.

_Dammit, damn it all to hell! _Shame burnt her, and she welcomed it, not wiping a single tear away, her vision clouding completely. Why she should get to live whilst people completely innocent of her crime died? Why was it that, whenever she tried to do good, somebody suffered? Somebody she loved…

And no, it would be illogical to claim she loved Unuratu after only brief time was shared between them, but nonetheless, what could’ve been – and not just for her, for Paititi…

“Lara?”

Her blood ran cold – but her nerves, shot like she’d been set on fire, had her head jerking up, her eyes searching feverishly fast for the source of that voice.

They landed on she who stood, unharmed, before the altar.

_No._

Adorned in the same dress,

_No, it wasn’t possible. She –_

Lara spun around, up into a stand, an abrupt rush of adrenaline causing her to shake. As she registered what her eyes were showing her, time seemed to freeze.

Standing before her, angelically unscathed from all battle wounds, the Paititian Queen. Briefly, she was surrounded by a halo of light. When it dissipated, Lara felt words come, despite her not knowing – unable to think – of what she wanted to say.

“Unuratu, I...”

“I know.”

Unuratu neither could speak the words, therefore settling to rest her hands upon Lara’s face. With a softness, she reiterated that she understood, negating the little thoughts squirming in her head of what, of all that could possibly happen next. In this moment, Unuratu deemed the future the last of her concerns, and the woman before her, of utmost.

“I know.”

*

On return to the hidden city, the quartet traversed a path forged in fire. Where there had once been wildlife, there was silence; trees had been torn from their roots, the few flowers that had covered the Paititian outer lands trampled or barely recognisable.

Lara averted her gaze as they began to pass the bodies, being wrapped or cremated where they were. It didn’t matter whether they were Trinity or Paititian. A horrific amount of life had been lost, and if she looked too long, she feared she might throw herself into the flames alongside them.

The city, graciously, was in much ampler condition. It would need rehabilitation, undoubtedly, but she had _no_ doubt Unuratu would see it through and done steadfastly. Lara glanced at the Queen as they entered a central temple, where Etzli, upon spotting his mother, shrieked her name with delight and sprinted towards them.

Lara moved aside, catching Unuratu’s eye with a gentle smile. She would leave them to their moment. From all that Unuratu had told her, there would be much to exposit to Etzli – or, much to conceal with another narrative. She felt for the other woman especially in that choice; God knows how many times she’d had to make it.

For a while, Lara sat with Uchu, Q’orianka, Jonah and a few other high-ranking soldiers, recounting some tales of battle before taking primary focus on Unuratu and, then, the city’s rebuild.

“It shall take some effort,” Uchu said, “and many resources we lack.”

“Hey,” Jonah spoke up, “leave that to me. I know somebody who’ll be willing to provide.”

With a smile, Uchu rested a hand on his shoulder. “Thank you.”

Q’orianka, meanwhile, although sharing the expression, seemed eager to move. She affirmed as much, jumping to her feet seconds later. “Well, enough of this talk of the future! There is something at hand to prepare.”

Smiling knowingly, Uchu rose as his fellow warrior looked to Lara’s fellow adventurer. “I hear you are a cook, Jonah. Several citizens, Uchu and I among them, are to start preparations for a celebratory feast. Would you perhaps like to assist?”

“Definitely,” Jonah replied with a wider grin, rising to stand beside Uchu, “anything to be of help.”

Lara stood, too, but was received with a gaze shared between three that indicated she should stay. Eyeing them suspiciously, she looked over her shoulder as Q’orianka’s eyes went that way. Unuratu was ushering Etzli off, taking an alternative exit in this temple.

Turning back to the trio, Lara found that two of three were moving out. Jonah, giving Lara a particularly long, amused look, followed suit. _Oh - great. _Internally, Lara took a breath – if she were to do so externally, she reminded herself to be subtle.

As she looked Unuratu’s way again, she found the Queen standing short of their bodies colliding. Both took an embarrassed step back. Running a hand through her hair (_bad call – dirty hand, _now even dirtier _hair_), Lara huffed a chuckle.

“So.” Her mind took an annoyingly obligatory pause. “A lot’s happened.”

_Smooth, Lara. So casual._

Unuratu raised a – mischievous? _Oh, God_ – eyebrow, humming in agreement. “What were you going to say?” she asked, “You hesitated.”

“Um – I was – going to apologise again, but since it’s pretty overdone at this point…” _Come on, Lara, you can do this_, “I was wondering, when we kissed –”

“Where would our relationship go?”

The smile on Unuratu’s face spread wide. Lara felt she was melting before it. “Sure – yes. I know it’s unrealistic to think ahead -”

That step she’d taken to separate them, Unuratu now retook. “Shall we think in the now, then?”

Senses and sense rattled, Lara took hers. “Absolutely.”

With words on either end having evacuated, they drew intimately near – and their kiss, mutually anticipated, lasted substantially longer. Lara smiled into their embrace; Unuratu reciprocated, shortly before breaking them apart as little as she could. Arms slung around Lara’s shoulder, her hands rose to comb through the brunette’s hair (which, if Lara had been remotely self-aware, would’ve been stopped abruptly by the woman touched).

“Will you stay for a while?” Unuratu whispered, threading a thumb through a cluster of loose brown strands.

“Ye – Yes,” Lara stuttered out, not as soft as she would’ve liked, “I’d love to. That would be great.”

Then, rethinking it, she corrected herself: “More than great - that’d be _perfect_.” Stepping out of their embrace, her hands gently – albeit shakily - held Unuratu’s. “I can’t think of anything I’d want to do more.”

From out of nowhere, as Unuratu looked at her as if she were a star shockingly bright, Lara added a tentative, “Yet.”

_Shit. _Maybe she should’ve made that sound more like a question than an implication. From the growing grin on Unuratu’s face, however, it didn’t seem that she’d fucked up that badly – or, for that matter, at all.

“Indeed.” Unuratu mused, that mischievous – _definitely mischievous _– look reappearing, “Come. There is much of Paititi you’ve yet seen.”

Lara shared a smile with Unuratu as they stepped out into sunlight. For the first time in years, life was giving her a chance. And she would hold it close to heart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who has stuck with me as I write this fic- I appreciate y'all so much.
> 
> ( ´͈ ॢꇴ `͈ॢ)･*♡
> 
> I really hope you guys liked this conclusion! As always, feedback is appreciated in any and all forms! ♡
> 
> Hope you have a great week. ^-^


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